


We'll Become a Hazard in the Rain

by Geonn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/F, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea discovers a spark of something while she and Michonne take refuge from a storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Become a Hazard in the Rain

There were times when it seemed as if winter knew they were waiting for it, teasing them with cold snaps followed by long and dreadfully hot afternoons. It was their hope that the cold air and freezing temperature would slow the walkers down, freeze them in place maybe, but she knew it was mostly false hope. Nothing had stopped the walkers so far, so why would a little inclement weather make a difference? Andrea had her doubts. She could tell Michonne did, too, even though she never said as much out loud.

The day had been overcast, and every now and then they got a breeze that seemed to promise rain that never showed up. She saw Michonne turning her head toward the east as if waiting for something, only to face forward again when nothing happened. Andrea lagged behind, watching her. Trust was difficult at first, nearly impossible, but they managed to strike a balance. If they were going to survive they had to trust each other. 

They were a mile outside of town when the rain swept in like a raven, darkness falling in an instant as the first wall of water crashed across the fields. Michonne began to run, her chained boys stumbling along behind her trying to keep up. Andrea brought up the rear, eyes open for any walkers that might try to intercept them. They got soaked before they reached the barn, and Andrea remained outside as Michonne cleared the interior. Andrea had a thing about barns after what happened at Herschel's, so she was more than willing to get drenched until she got the all-clear. 

Michonne pulled the doors shut behind her, and Andrea shivered in the refuge of the barn. Water still trickled through the slats in the roof, but it was drier than any of their other options. She watched as Michonne secured the chains holding her boys to a wooden beam in one of the empty stalls, shutting them in. Once they were out of the way, she unhooked her scabbards and hooked them on a support beam. Water trickled down her upper arms, tracing her biceps as she began to undo her belt.

"Uh. What are you doing?"

"I ain't spending the night in these wet clothes. You bashful, you can turn your head."

Andrea raised an eyebrow, but she decided she didn't much care to sleep in her wet clothes, either. So she turned her back to Michonne and unbuttoned her blouse, shrugging out of it and draping it over the door of one stall. She had to admit it would be nice to sleep in fewer clothes. Before everything happened, she rarely wore the same outfit two or three times before it got rotated out and sent to Goodwill. Now she wore the same outfit for days on end, for weeks, and washing anything was a luxury.

She stripped down to her underwear, unsure how much farther she should go. She looked back and saw Michonne stepping out of her panties, back bare and her skin moist from the storm. Andrea stared without realizing it, gawking at the smooth lines and tight muscles. Michonne's hair hung over her shoulders in thick dreadlocks. She knelt and opened her rucksack, pulling out a blanket and tossing it without looking. Andrea caught it on two fingers.

"Gonna get cold tonight."

"Thanks."

Andrea used one end of the blanket to blot the rain from her face and arms, then looked for a place to bunk. She ended up against one of the stalls, wrapping herself in the blanket so she had a soft spot to sit on and her underwear was covered. Michonne used her pack as a pillow and stretched out on the floor, covering her body with the blanket and folding her hands on her stomach. Her swords were close at hand, and she closed her eyes as soon as she was settled.

Andrea looked past her at the walkers still shuffling in the stall. They still made her queasy, even though it had been proven time and again that they'd been rendered harmless. She didn't like sleeping in the same four walls as them. She knew Michonne would never part with them, so she shifted her focus and watched Michonne sleep. Her upper chest was exposed, along with both arms. She hadn't bothered to dry off other than a cursory pass with the blanket, so water had trickled down from her hair and still glistened on her arms.

It was startling how little she knew about Michonne. But she knew enough to feel safe with her, to know Michonne would protect her no matter what else happened. It was comforting to know she was taken care of. It felt like having Dale back, but in an entirely different way. Michonne was like having Rick, Daryl, Dale, and Shane all rolled up in a single package. She didn't know Michonne's story, if she was gay or straight or bisexual. There had been moments when she caught her looking and wondered just what was going on behind those steel-trap eyes.

In the coming winter, she knew there would be nights when they couldn't afford the luxury of sleeping apart. The cold would be too much, and they would end up under the same blankets simply to share body heat. But would that be all they shared? What if by that time Michonne was comfortable enough to kiss her? Would she respond?

The thought of being kissed, whoever the kissee was, appealed to her. It wasn't like the world before, when she could pick and choose who she wanted to take to bed. In this new world, people had to take what they were given. She might have fucked Shane if they met before, but in reality there was no way to know. And she'd entertained thoughts about women before, had teased and been teased by girlfriends that maybe she was a little bit bi. They were all just jokes in the past. Now... it was harder to laugh.

Comfort, the simple comfort of just being with someone, would be a huge deal. Could she turn it down just because it would be a little awkward? She decided not. Andrea decided that if Michonne came on to her, or tried to kiss her, she would let it happen. With that hurdle overcome, she settled against the wall and scooted her butt down, tenting her knees under the blankets. She closed her eyes and idly thought about how it would happen. Michonne would never be tentative, would never go slow.

Andrea imagined Michonne under the blankets with her, could almost see the snowflakes melting in her dreadlocks, her bottom lip trembling from the cold. She saw herself leaning in and kissing her until the lip became still. _Wait, wasn't this fantasy supposed to be about her coming onto..._ She silenced the inner voice and squeezed her eyes shut. Michonne, their bodies pressed together out of necessity, their lips pressed together out of want, hands sliding under clothes to caress chilled skin, tongues darting and teasing. 

She moved her hands under the blankets, resting one on top of her underwear. She massaged gently as she pictured it, closing her eyes and choking back the sigh that threatened to rise from her throat. It already seemed silly to debate the mere fact of gender. So what if Michonne had breasts instead of a cock? She was the only person in the world, literally the only one, that Andrea trusted. And since the end of the world, since losing everything that made her who she was, so much had changed. She wouldn't have recognized herself if she'd passed this hard-bitten, gun-wielding, angry woman on the street. 

She was an only child. She was a crack-shot. She was angry all of the time, or angry when she wasn't scared out of her mind. Maybe this version of her could have a female lover. She didn't have to argue how right it was. She wasn't just going out to find some random woman to molest. She wanted Michonne. 

There. She'd said it. No justification of snow or sharing body heat, no "end of the world means no rules." She simply wanted to be with Michonne. She wanted to know what it was like, if what felt was just lust or something deeper. She opened her eyes and looked across the floor and saw Michonne's eyes were open, like pearls in the dark, one hand behind her head. She was looking, watching... seeing. Andrea held her breath.

"You want me to go?"

Andrea kept her hand still. Then finally, slowly, she shook her head. "No."

Michonne moved a hand under her blankets. Andrea moved her underwear out of the way and stroked with her middle finger, making quiet sounds of pleasure as she teased herself. Now with all the pretense eroded, she was able to just enjoy herself and appreciate the fantasy. She wanted Michonne to take her. She liked to be on the bottom, to be taken and fucked, and that was how she pictured Michonne now. Hands flat on the floor on either side of Andrea's head, their faces mere inches apart, both of them breathing heavy as Michonne settled her weight against the crux of Andrea's legs and began to thrust.

"Oh, fuck me," Andrea gasped, stopping herself just short of saying Michonne's name. She added a third finger, pushing it inside of herself as she held the mental image in her head. "Oh, fuck." She moved her hand faster, hearing the slap of her palm against her mound and knew Michonne could hear it as well. She opened her eyes and saw Michonne was barely moving, but her arm made a mountain under the blankets. Andrea could see exactly where her hand was and knew what she was doing.

"You gonna come for me?" Michonne asked in a low, raspy voice.

"Yeah," Andrea growled. "Yes, yeah, yes... Michonne, fuck..." She arched forward away from the wall, clenching around herself like a fist closing around her sex, her three fingers deep inside as her muscles convulsed. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed, and she brought her knees up to touch her forehead as she came down from the knee-weakening, mind-numbing orgasm.

Michonne came with more dignity; she merely looked toward the ceiling, lifted her hips in an invisible thrust, and gave a low moan from the back of her throat. It sounded so much like a walker than Andrea's skin crawled, and she curled her toes as she watched Michonne's eyes roll back and her lips spread back over her teeth. She dropped back, smiled, and then - wonder of wonders - she laughed.

"Guess that's why they call it _la petit morte._ The little death. Felt a little like a walker there for a second."

Andrea had never heard her string together so many words at once. And French! Andrea's mind swam a little. "Yeah. You sounded a little like one, too."

Michonne looked over at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She smiled. "That was fun."

"Hell, yeah." She chuckled again, a lighthearted sound that faded quickly. For a long time they both just listened to the rain and the groans as the wind leaned against their shelter. After a long moment of listening to the weather, Michonne cleared her throat. "Night."

"Goodnight, Michonne."

The barn was filled with the sound of both women settling in, though Andrea spent a long time staring at the pieces of sky visible through the slats, the long strips of pale gray light that let the water in and made the wind whistle in the rafters. She thought about how much she must have changed that she was grateful for a barn to sleep in and a warm blanket. She thought that if the world had made such a substantial shift, then certainly she could accept a few personal changes. 

She smiled and put her hands behind her head as a pillow, stretched until her feet poked out from beneath the blanket, and closed her eyes as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
